Correction Lyrics Put That Shit On by Yung Booke, Bighead & Gunna

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Lyrics

Told her to put that sh*t on
Told her to put that sh*t on
(Ayy, Manzo, we got a hit, boy)
Young Gunna, Young Gunna the one
(Ooh, Bi-Bighead on the beat)

Dark-a** shades, haters can't see my face
Secure my vibe, hater get out my space
Foreign my car, hold on, foreign my b*t*h, okay
Big-ol' guns, hitters on deck, don't play
Just checking my funds, [?]
Heart frozen, you can tell I'm a product of the motherf**king slums
Strap in my palms, gorilla in the streets, yeah, [?]
Comme des Garçons with the Rick Owens on me, show 'em how to put this sh*t on

I'ma show 'em how put this sh*t on
Fashion show at Louis Vuitton
I put Dior on my Jordan 1's
I put the Rolls Royce droptop down
Got a nice breeze and I feel the sun
Biscotti weed coming out my lungs
Get a lot of G's, I can spend 'em for fun
She never seen, now I'm one over one
Young Gunna, Young Gunna the one
He talking real tough like he never been stung
I hope that lil' boy know I come with a gun
Slimy and shady, don't back down for none
I count up it daily, unlimited funds
{?} the money gon' come
I still got a habit, they thought I was done
Dark-a** shades, haters can't see my face
Secure my vibe, hater get out my space
Foreign my car, hold on, foreign my b*t*h, okay
Big-ol' guns, hitters on deck, don't play
Just checking my funds, [?]
Heart frozen, you can tell I'm a product of the motherf**king slums
Strap in my palms, gorilla in the streets, yeah, [?]
Comme des Garçons with the Rick Owens on me, show 'em how to put this sh*t on

Dark-a** shades
I'ma show 'em how to put this sh*t on
Big rackades
I'ma show 'em how to put this sh*t on

Jumped right off the ship now I'm warm
Amiri my britches, I dior my kicks, I'ma show 'em how to put this sh*t on
My b*t*h can't wear [?]
Need a six [?] to perform
My lil' college freak like f**king in her dorm
When I [?] put the gang on a charm
With Gunna and I got a gun
Put that sh*t on, I do that for fun, been doing it since I was young
I'm shining on time
Wipe that boy nose, when he know I was slime
dripper, can't f**k with your kind
My diamonds, they blind
That's why I gotta rock...
Dark-a** shades, haters can't see my face
Secure my vibe, hater get out my space
Foreign my car, hold on, foreign my b*t*h, okay
Big-ol' guns, hitters on deck, don't play
Just checking my funds, [?]
Heart frozen, you can tell I'm a product of the motherf**king slums
Comme des Garçons with the Rick Owens on me, show 'em how to put this sh*t on

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